Obliviation
by ChocolateMilk2
Summary: What if Marluxia had recognized Axel's askew loyalties before it was too late?  -CoM fic-
1. Ground Floor

Namine wakes to a sterile white hall, that one near-empty floor of Castle Oblivion where she has long been sitting and waiting. Her trusty sketchbook is splayed open in her lap; she was drawing before she fell asleep, and one can now easily catch where the blue crayon she carefully wielded has, in her uncontrolled pitch forward, broken from the drawing and ridden off the page.

She traces the line it has left, trusting the wax not to smudge.

n.o.i.t.a.i.v.i.l.b.O

Larxene strides through the corridor of an upper level of her castle, wondering just how the hell she got herself into this. _The Organisation_, that's a no brainer. She once awoke on the dingy streets of The World That Never Was to find Nobodies, and to look for life. _Castle Oblivion_, she was sent out by word of the big boss. Looking after a whiny, self-absorbed brat, she's not so sure.

Where the nobodies of the lower floors - Vexy, Lexy and Zexy - run a democracy, sharing duties and opinions and the shallowest of loyalties, Larxene and Axel live an anarchy beneath a dictatorship, listening to the flower power man spurt his twisted hippy rationales about freedom and oppression, all nodding and smiling, then behind his back operating loudly on a policy of open season.

So for Larxene to be mothering the white witch on a near-daily basis _without _order from the almighty pink hair, something must be up.

Either she originally was getting back at Marluxia somehow with Namine or she was trying to weed out a piece of non-Sora related information, trying to sway with the loyalties in case a fellow roman numeral ever needed their memories fucked up.

It just isn't like her to work without an ulterior motive, she thinks. Hell, she's no Zexion but there has to be some sort of proper reason to that doing, even if she's forgotten it. (Time passes so slowly in the Castle that sometimes, you forget it's passing at all.)

She resolves to stop visiting tomorrow if she can't remember by this afternoon.

"Hey, Number Zero." Laxene greets.

Namine looks up, and a flash of hurt slights her face to be tucked away neatly again, she bows her head and fashions her features into wary indifference, eyes dropping to the floor.

"What, no hello for your kind guest? Who has graciously come at her own inconvenience to alleviate your boredom? How impudent."

"Hello," Namine mutters.

_Number Zero_. That is what she is called, as the elder blonde Nobody never fails to remind her. She is not one of them. She is not a Somebody. She is not a fighter. If she's anything, it's an inept tool no one believes in ready to be discarded at the slightest opportunity. She is a witch, and she is worthless. Ultimately nothing. Zero.

They don't even have a roman numeral for that.

"And what exactly is it you're doing that's more important then entertaining your better?" Her crayon, idly scribbling to amend its prior misgiving halts, and Namine looks upwards guiltily.

Larxene snatches the paper from her hands and appraises the drawing, scoffing. "A two year old could draw themselves better then this. Yes, you're just so self-obsessed aren't you." With a smirk, Larxene tears the paper in half, then in half again. "Because when it comes down to it, you're just an ugly little girl in way over her head. You don't matter, zero." The paper flutters to the floor.

The anger curls her nails into the side of her chair, but Namine works to show no emotion on her face. She doesn't want to give the woman the satisfaction of seeing her upset.

Larxene cackles, and skips around the chair in an odd sort of dance, to kneel afront the younger girl all too deliberately. Larxene knows just how Namine sees them all from her distorted viewpoint. The witch's resentment manifests itself in their tall, arrogant patronization, and she prides herself on her own foresight. Namine loves the notion of the organisation's incapability, their fatal flaw of overlooking how powerful and worthy she truly is.

"It's satire, that you feel so bad for yourself when you have so much luck thrust upon you," Larxene explains. "You have a heart, a mind and the ability to manipulate the memories of anyone advancing through the castle. So much more than let's say another nobody, constantly suspected and competing with others, life permanently at risk from fighting and tied to the crutch of obtaining actuality. You think you're so good, but you spend all this time sulking and feeling sorry for yourself and never actually doing anything to thwart Marluxia's plans."

"I can't," Namine whispers. "It's wrong."

"Is it really?" Larxene hypothesizes. "Marluxia's a very bad man, and though he hasn't hurt you, none of us have your best interests at heart. What can I say, we don't have any. Hmm. But you should've at least altered the perceptions of Sora- surely you don't actually want him to forget his best friend, who he's been forever searching for? Isn't that wrong too?"

"He's a very bad man." Namine repeats. Larxene stares at the shaking younger girl in amusement for a moment, then realises the doll's too afraid. Afraid of what Marluxia might do to her, afraid of not having Sora's genuine (but misplaced) friendship, afraid of what might happen if she tries to change everything and it all spirals out of control.

Larxene's respect for her suddenly drops a length. "Who would have thought it. Namine, the coward." Larxene sneers. "Look at me when I talk to you, child."

Namine's head is a badly oiled pivot joint that refuses to tilt upwards. Larxene takes her chin in her hand and lifts it, appraising the other girl with that something the witch doesn't understand in her eyes. "You lonely, lonely, little girl."

Larxene leans down over her and pressed her lips to Namine's. She guides the frozen mouth open and eases her tongue inwards, threading a hand through the witch's fine, silk-like hair.

She pulls away after a moment and breathes out, standing straight again.

"And you think you know everything," Larxene purrs.

"Funny, I could say the same thing about you." Wavering voice.

Larxene folds her arms, knowing she's won the battle with a kick at the paper beneath her feet. "Here's something to think about. Why don't you try laying back and enjoying life instead of always trying to capture it?"

Satisfied, she turns and stalks off.

Namine raises a still shaking finger to where she has just been kissed, furious beyond belief and hardly daring to breathe. Nothing.

O.b.l.i.v.i.a.t.i.o.n

"Yo, twelve."

"Axel."

He waves, she inclines her head and motions for him to sit down.

"So how are you faring, Larxene?"

"Well enough. I've been having a lot of run ins with Marluxia, talking about what to do in regards to the key blade's chosen."

"He has been advancing floors alarmingly fast. Lexaues was just suggesting capping the map cards we give him, but that will only lead to him getting stronger faster, training in the levels of the castle already available."

"Agreed, I'm not sure a stall for time would be doing much good right now, especially as we're trying to coax him upwards and not push him down. Still, if he gets powerful enough to pose a serious threat to the replica…" Their whole scheme could be undermined if Marluxia lost grip.

"We'll all just have to keep working to fight him off."


	2. Level Two

She doesn't need food or drink or to relieve herself to survive, she doesn't need cleanliness. All she needs is her chair, her crayons and her sketchbook and she's set. Sometimes her mind wanders and the sleep that cradles her memory patients overtakes her, but finitely she is an independent being. Even if she is being held hostage, and is seen as a weak, pitiful creature to be mollycoddled, there could always be someone else to replace her Organisation visitors. Sora maybe. His bright, cocky smile and say-what-I-mean attitude would be a welcome relief in the face of these miserable, manipulative wardens…

They're familiar to her on some level, and truly, Namine does appreciate all they've done for her, but she can't ever escape the thought that she's _not one of them, _like she wants to be and that no matter what it might seem, they're the ones who have done this to her.

So sometimes Namine does need friends, so what.

She definitely doesn't need Larxene.

O.b.l.i.v.i.a.t.i.o.n

Larxene fights in Oblivion's Traverse Town, heartless after heartless after miserable heartless. Her knives are heavy by the end of it, cast in the same smoke that appears when one of the creatures is slain and she's weary of it. She loves fighting. She loves immersing herself in action and thrill, coming out the victor every time, enforcing her superiority over these mindless apparitions.

Yet there's a limit to how much fulfilment can be found in defeating foes that don't truly exist. Sure, they're near-exact replicas of heartless that exist in other worlds, but this is just a castle and these worlds are just fabrications. They might make you bleed but they won't steal your heart (not that Larxene has one) so it's just battling on and on, never taking anything as a serious threat and eventually growing bored of it altogether.

There are no real townspeople in Traverse Town, oddly. It's because of Larxene's gaps in memory, because she didn't get a play by play of her other's life when she awoke as a nobody. The _to find is to lose and to lose is to find _stuff of the castle probably doesn't help much either.

So the townspeople in Traverse are the same infuriating faces she sees every day: clones of Axel and Marluxia and Namine, Riku the odd Vexen or Zexion. The half-insane nobody woman Larxene first met on the streets of The World That Never Was, keening like an animal from her dark apartment house.

Larxene goes into the first district's item shop, wondering if the potions sold there actually work properly. "Get me a pepper up, on the house," she says, and he raises one smooth eyebrow.

"Blow me,"

"What?" She seriously laughs at him.

"You heard me." He laughs, leaning forward, "I just can't go giving away stock for free, you know. These are tough times we live in."

"Yeah, I'll pass." Larxene wanders back outside, to the cool night. Axel says the soul every person you meet is slightly contained within these replicas. Larxene wonders if Vexen's legitimately that creepy or if it's just her mind fucking with her acquaintanceship. Probably a bit of both.

"Miss?" Oh hell, it's a Namine. Hasn't Larxene had enough of this shit for one day?

"What is it now?"

"Someone from another world is requesting your presence. I don't know what it means, but I'd suggest it best you go now."

Larxene gives her an odd look and shuffles through her battle deck heading for the door. Minutes later she stands at the entrance of a higher floor, peering out.

"Marluxia." She greets, for once courteous.

"Larxene. I called you up to announce a threat."

Direct as always, Marly. "And what might that be?"

Marluxia turns. He paces, from right to left. "Sora. He'll be up here any day now, but that's not just it." He runs a hand through his hair. "Somehow, word has gotten out to Xenmas that Castle Oblivion might be less then faithful to his ruling."

"Well fuck," Larxene decides.

"Oh, and it gets better. Axel was out yesterday morning before the meeting, just when they got the news. We might have a double agent on our hands."

"A double agent? But he was the one betraying Xenmas's buddies in the first place… That's like, a triple agent, unless he was their spy sent in in the first place." Larxene's head spins. "Fuck, I was just talking to him. He didn't mention anything."

"Are you sure?" Marluxia's gaze is piercing. Larxene swallows, and nods. "Damnit, I was afraid of this. Well the obvious answer here is that he was covering himself up not telling you about it, since the asshole always seems to know everything going on in the worlds."

Yeah, good old Axel. "What are you going to do about Xenmas?" Larxene asks.

"I… Probably send Lexaues out to report on my behalf. He knows how to handle himself, but is expendable enough if anything happens. If he gets shot down, we know we can't go back. If it's more smooth sailing, we might be able to negotiate ourselves a way out of here. First things first, we need to get Axel out of the picture."

Larxene's throat turns dry. "How out of the picture, boss?"

"I want him dead, and for you to kill him."

"Shit." Axel is good. Seriously good. Not only in smarts but with his fighting skills, which makes him not only an invaluable asset to the team but a fierce opponent. "Are you sure it's hi- I mean… You sure I couldn't _talk _you out of it somehow?"

He sounds amused. "Why Larxene, I'm flattered, but I'm afraid that won't be necessary. Frankly, I'm unattracted to you."

Shot down. Eh it was worth a try, Marluxia doesn't look half bad in leather.

Larxene's glad in a small way besides. Somehow she gets the feeling that Marluxia wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted if he was attracted to a person, unwilling partner or no.

"I understand. When do you want me to seek him out?"

"If now's alright with you…"

n.o.i.t.a.i.v.i.l.b.O

Lexaues stepped into their meeting room with a heavy sigh, collecting his overly large weapon.

There Zexion sat on the couch, washing basket in tow, examining him.

"Marluxia's sent me off to HQ delivering a peace message." The quiet man says by way of greeting.

Zexion's eyebrows climb up his forehead. "You, a peace message? He might as well be sending a fruit basket to announce a famine. Did he not take into account your imposing stature on coming to this decision?" His eyes narrow. "Marluxia has not spoken with us for a long time."

"Greetings," Vexen announces his presence, entering the room.

"Vexen, were you aware that Marluxia has requested our Lexaueus to deliver a message of peace?" Zexion doesn't take his eyes off the larger nobody even in asking.

"I was not." The scientist replies. "How intriguing. Either our leader is stupider than he seems or something deeper is going on here." Vexen paces the hallway, wondering. "I do believe Marluxia has had it out for us for quite some time now, vacating us of his presence for Axel and Larxene. This could be his method of delivering a mocking message to us and not just his rival. At the moment our best bet would be leave the premises in search of safer ground, perhaps seeking reconciliation with those we have betrayed. Since we all do know Xemnas's lackeys are set to storm this castle any day now."

"And of the replica?" Zexion's eyes finally swivell to Vexen's.

"His fate is his own."


	3. Level Three

Axel stands with his arms splayed outwards, chackrams summoned. Every bit of him seems just that hostile: his spiked red hair, his furrowed eyebrows, his sharp angular cheekbones.

Larxene watches in total fearlessness as he readies himself, sharpening her knives. There's an excitement about the prospect of a fight to the death that overrides any of her previous convictions- ignoring Marluxia and not fighting, fighting but going easy, sneaking up on him and killing him without the hassle.

Oh, but he came prepared. It's something that Larxene would respect in other circumstances, were Axel not a lying, traitorous _nobody_.

"Ready to die?" She screams at him, lunging. He quickly teleports out of the way, but it's something Larxene pre-empted. She murmurs the incantation and bolts of fork lighting strike from the ceiling at random, barely missing the teleported nobody.

"No tricks," He concedes, running a hand through his hair. It's a second later that a burning chackram is spun her way, and that Larxene has to pres herself against a castle wall to avoid it. It hasn't entirely missed the younger nobody; a clean slice across her middle tears her cloak's leather, scratching her stomach.

They lunge towards the other simultaneously. Axel, apparently, can also fight hand to hand with his pointy Frisbees; Larxene quickly takes her two knives from her sides up to parry and block. Axel is more experienced, but his unwieldy weapons of choice leave him open to quick attacks.

She sees an opening, and catches him in the shoulder. She feels the knife tear through his skin, like cutting bread. He screams and steps back as another is plunged into his forearm, then grits his teeth.

Larxene quickly moves to take her hidden knives and finish the job, but amazingly he tears the knives from his forearms and heals in fast, jerky movements.

"You seriously didn't expect me to fight fair, did you?" Larxene goads him. "Eight knives in member VIII. What a fitting death."

"One I refuse to meet." Axel spins the knives in his hands, getting a taste for them as his blood drips to the floor. "Unfair fights are often regretted. Why don't you give me your other two knives so it's equal each?"

"You want them so badly?" Seeing Larxene's arm snap back to throw both at him Axel quickly teleports out of the way, retrieving both after they'd clattered to the floor. Again, he manages to doge Larxene's ever-respondent lightning that scorches the white ground in its furiousness.

They lunge at each other again.

n.o.i.t.a.i.v.i.l.b.O

Sora takes the first card in his deck and presses it against the door's hard wood surface, allowing himself a contented grin when it dematerializes into a portal to the next room.

It had taken him many, many heartless fights to get a map card with the value of nine, which appeared to be all this door wanted to take. Now, as he walks through the portal and to the other side, Donald and Goofy suddenly in tow, he gets a sense of the card's worth- something is about to _happen_.

And indeed it does. It's not a new castle level or material item type reward, the hard boss enemy Sora was expecting. Sora finds a surprise reunion with friends, from Traverse, as he'd been promised.

But they don't remember him.

O.b.l.i.v.i.a.t.i.o.n

Larxene is so, so tired. All the training in the morning (was it morning? Time is so hard to tell in Oblivion Castle) had drained her enough, and then she just had to go along and fight Axel to the death.

Not that she had succeeded.

The knowledge of that misguided loss still irks her, the boiling rage pumping through her veins at the time of realization converted to a frustrated simmer.

Who did that bastard Axel think he was, refusing to kill her? She had lost, fare and square. Her own burning knives had wavered at her neck, too ready, too able. Like he.

Though he in perfect seriousness went and told her, cold bloodedly, "Collect your staff and don't bother me again. Obeying Marluxia's crazed commands hardly warrants a premature death."

He was weak. He was weaker then her, he was a fool. He should have done it. Larxene had screamed at him to do it, she had told him he was a coward, he was crazed, he was beyond selfish, she saw the words shake him to his core.

Yet he, infuriatingly, refrained. Purposelly. When he knew that Larxene wouldn't have hesitated to finish it, given the opportunity. He was just fucking with her now, teasing her with the concept of life debt seeing her perseverance to never get too close, to protect herself, to gain with an awful, awful sadism. He's stripped her of her integrity and she loathes him for it.

Larxene's warped to a random level and collapsed to the ground in sheer exhaustion. At the moment she couldn't care less if the big boss himself walked in and spied her, but looking across she only finds a bereft white hall.

Or not so bereft. At her feet lies the scraps of paper Larxene recognises as a drawing of Namine's. Marluxia must've taken her up a floor again.

She pieces the scraps of paper back together on the floor's surface:

The picture is of a young girl with blonde hair and white clothes. The blue is her eyes, gazing up at the viewer with unspoken intent.

A jagged blue line runs off from the girl's iris, like a confused tear.

n.o.i.t.a.i.v.i.l.b.O

Axel's second fight that day is Sora. Sora plays by the book, with the cards. Though he has a knack for their use and is perfectly apt with their control, it's an emulation of his lack of resourcefulness. He, amazingly, hasn't yet realized that you _don't need _to whip out a rank eight power card to damage the opponent well and hard. Fighting this way might be easier, but Axel knows only too well weaknesses like dependence can be easily exploited- he remembers his initial defensive magic training with the Organisation's water-oriented Demyx shuddering. Sora's massive deck of cards could be blown only too easily away by a well placed wind, or rendered useless by earth or fire attacks.

It's not Axel's lesson to teach.

He reaches for his own singed deck of cards, thinking of Na-mi-ne.


	4. Level Four

Vexen sees it, the smallest seed of an idea planted in his mind. Tell Sora about Roxas and get him out of the way by prompting him to seek out his other, thereby undermining Marluxia's plan for a puppet to defeat Xenmas. Kill two birds with one stone.

There is an opportunity. Vexen could theoretically meet Sora at any time to do it with Namine's mental connection to him. The girl is a pushover: she _would _tell him on which floor he stands.

The scientist hesitates.

He does not plan to stay in Oblivion with a suspecting governor, he knows that. It's exactly is why he gave Lexaeus and Zexion the motivation to go, but there's an unknown variable he didn't calculate.

There is the smallest chance that implementing his idea, Namine might find the Roxas revelation in Sora's brain and repeat it to Marluxia. They all wanted to observe the outcome of the replica meeting the key blade master, but if they don't leave soon enough Marluxia could kill Vexen for foiling his plans.

Vexen makes his decision sure and just as always. He won't seek out Sora: instead he would convince Namine to implant his existence in the replica's mind. This way she would have no incentive to speak with Marluxia about it. What could possibly be the harm in giving the replica more use to find his enemy's weak points?

Yet even if she had no reason to, it is still within her power.

The potential of her ability is all too sobering.

O.b.l.i.v.i.a.t.i.o.n

Namine's second picture that day is, unintentionally, Larxene. The picture was meant to be Roxas, but she supposed it went askew in that she had no true reference to recreate him from. Only stories, of his ice cold persona and platinum blonde hair, his blue, blue eyes that remained the sole pair Axel had ever let impact him.

Larxene, Larxene, Larxene. Namine doesn't think she really likes the nobody as she likes the idea of her. She's a sharp, confident woman with definite cynicism and questionable motives; but not an antagonist as much as a person brought up in the wrong conditions, an anti-hero.

She's the only other girl Namine has seen since before she can remember, notably. Possibly, if her history as a nobody was as isolated as she suspects, the only one ever. She's slightly sick of all the men here, stalking around like they own the place and thinking they're better then everyone else day in day out. Maybe, just maybe underneath it all, Larxene doesn't. Maybe she's just as afraid as Namine is.

Namine slips into fantasy: maybe if Namine was Axel, Larxene could be her Roxas.

n.o.i.t.a.i.v.i.l.b.O

Axel is a wild card of an opponent, but Sora knows his stuff. His main deck, mostly composed of key blade cards of varying degrees is offset by spare soldier heartless cards and the odd hi potion or cure. One card he hasn't yet obtained is fire: he hopes today to collect the card from Axel, with some reluctance. He can't shake the thought that the item drops are a thinly veiled form of stealing.

But isn't he entitled to them? Sora's defeated the Guard Armor of Traverse for god's sake, and all without others' help. For no real thanks but more battles to be fought.

This is a battle with an opponent of unknown strength, but Sora can deal. He makes the first move of the fight, drawing his level five key blade card from the top of his deck and running forward. Axel doesn't move to take action for many seconds, just standing there, like he wants to be hit.

In a scene reminiscent of the Yu Gi Oh cartoons Sora used to watch Axel twirls a card from his pocket and the rooms erupts in summoned flames. There is no monster but there doesn't need to be- Sora coughs smoke, frantically flipping through his deck looking for a blizzard to rectify the sweltering heat.

Axel takes the moment of distraction to get in his face with his spiked, circular weapons. In a panic Sora grabs a floating Goofy card, and Axel is unprepared for the heavy blow to his stomach. He falls back, but lets the summon go, seeing it disappear into thin air scrambling back to his feet.

"Hot enough for you, Sora?"

In this time Sora has found his blizzard card: he motions the keyblade around his local vicinity and sighs as the cool slush rebound chills his skin.

Axel throws a flaming chakram, which slashes the key blade master through the shoulder. He gasps in pain but doesn't have time for cure as the cloaked nobody launches another assault on his person: following is a war of attack cards, one after another again and again. Two level four cards played at once nullify each other, Axel tactically plays a zero against a brutal seven and they're both running out of cards, yes he needs another firaga…

Cardbreak.

The redhead nobody laughs at the satire as the last card in Sora's deck- a level seven of all things, overrides his eight with a premium glimmer. It doesn't make sense. The attack isn't exactly overpowered but it _hurts _and Axel has to teleport back to negate its follow through.

"Well played," he rasps, and Sora shuffles ready to do it again.

And after all that, Axel throws the fight. He has a hi potion to refresh his hand if need be and a cura he hasn't used: he teleports around the battlefield pretending to use his cards, throwing chackrams at Sora every so often mechanically until the key blade master lands a critical hit. It's out of no true faithfullness to Marluxia and his cause, but a belayed tiredness from the fight with Larxene and an impatience to be somewhere else.

As soon as Axel disappears, he reappears, much to Sora's bemusement. The spoilt, fated child isn't used to the world not working as he'd expect.

So Sora gets a hint he doesn't understand with a map card and the fire ability, torn from the Castle's magic and Sora's free dreams.

The loser takes his leave.

O.b.l.i.v.i.a.t.i.o.n

Sora doesn't really understand Axel, he thinks when he's won, the battle is over and he's been interrogated about his 'missing memories'. Out of all the organization members Sora has met so far, Axel seems the most reasonable- answering questions and cracking jokes, enjoying his battle like it's a game between friends. He reminds Sora of someone who could be their ally, in other circumstances.

But he makes up for it with something Sora can't understand; mystery. Sora doesn't know why Axel just doesn't drop the cover about his memories, or the whole deal with this castle. He's just plain _weird_ about it, like everyone else. Sora'll say something perfectly justified and Axel will look at him like he's the one who's wrong. Seriously. They're just making themselves look bad, by acting the part of evil.

He squishes his deck back in the space behind his belt, frowning.

They've chosen this, so Sora can do what he likes. He means, it's never too late for them to repent.

n.o.i.t.a.i.v.i.l.b.O

It's Larxene's turn.

She brings out the lightning straight on at her enemy, fast and sure as can be.

And she does good. She know she does; her attacks hit their mark good and well, but it seems that for every one attack she executes his do five times the damage.

Her best attack is her lightning blot, and she knows it. The first time he's shuffling and doesn't break the card, and she drags him over to drain sweet, continuous energy.

She'll never admit to losing this battle.


	5. Level Five

Namine can feel Sora go higher.

She works with the castle in her mind, and feels more grounded then she ever has in her life: the small sense of something greater one gets on employing an attack card is magnified a thousand fold in her as she burrows through the castle's magic looking for _Sora_.

The chains of magic that the castle attaches to every part of every person are different in him: the technicolour threads attached to his mind channel down to his heart and tie himself to her. The thickest links are those touching his heart, and Namine has to slowly pull to not shock what's left of it to send him into cardiac arrest.

She paints herself into his life through his heart, taking the pulsing chains from her mind that is her idea and the truthful blue chains that make her image of herself and weaving them between the links.

She does not know how long it takes. One moment Marluxia watches over her, and the next she is spending what seems to be years without him in the castle: time passes so quickly within the thick, rich castle magic that it seems maybe it doesn't pass it all.

She feels his thoughts, hopes and dreams and feels she knows him better then anyone else in the world. She slowly, carefully, teases the Kairi links at the forefront of his mind and sends them back in his heart, closer to the castle that knows not of remembrance.

She feels the same when she adjusts the replica's memories, but asked now she would easily say she understands Sora more of the two. His moral values and ideals easily reflect her own: kindness, loyalty, righteousness- he acts the way he thinks he should act and, most importantly to her, he has a deep underlying want for true friendship and compassion.

Riku's isn't even _real_.

n.o.i.t.a.i.v.i.l.b.O

Riku.

Sora can feel the breath lifted out of him, staring at his long-lost friend.

He savours every second of their encounter, even as somehow he is lauded into fight. He's just so _confused_.

"I bet, that you had all but forgotten about me."

Why would Riku betray him again? They'd been such good friends back home. Ever since, it felt like everything had been against them to stop that. His crush on Kairi, his sway by Maleficent, his posession by Ansem. And now this.

Riku, again- "Just because you wanted to see Namine-"

Namine. Could he have really been that terrible to her?

"You should ask your memories why Namine disappeared from the islands."

They were supposed to be friends.

Sora started to doubt himself. Maybe it really was his fault, and Riku wasn't just trying to goad him. He deserved to lose, didn't he? If he did that to Namine. Maybe… Maybe he's been wrong all along. Maybe he's the one who needs to repent. For his sins to Riku, and Namine.

"When have you ever cared about me?"

Maybe, if Sora had tried harder to acknowledge Riku on the islands, before all that happened… Maybe, if he'd been nicer to Namine…

Maybe they wouldn't be here, fighting over her. Maybe they'd all still be together, carefree and happy once more.

_When have you ever cared…_

"Namine's not the only one who's sick of looking at you."

"Riku, stop it!" Yells Sora, a tight feeling in his throat.

Riku doesn't.

O.b.l.i.v.i.a.t.i.o.n

He has been, again ordered by Marluxia. It is little more then blackmail: destroying Sora so Marluxia doesn't reveal his failure to Xenmas.

Vexen is just about to escape. He's heard, after all, that Marluxia wants him dead, and what Marluxia wants rarely gives when it comes to his loyal subjects: Vexen can remember the worry settling in on him on overhearing the encounter, obscured by the floor's marble pillar. The scientist is really quite impressed himself with his elaborate scheme to justify his and their removal: Lexaues is strong, formidable support to have and Zexion will make a worthy assistant yet, with his unseen intelligence and idolization of rational process.

Admittedly, it will be a shame. Vexen had wholly been enjoying these experiments with Riku and Namine, under the pretence of discovering the mysteries of the heart.

A piercing scream echoes through the floor as Axel shoves a chackram through his middle.

n.o.i.t.a.i.v.i.l.b.O

Zexion and Lexaues wait, on the ground floor of the castle, staring at white walls.

Zexion is impatient. "This venture is fruitless," he mutters, digging into the marble with his front toe. Lexaues realizes then the boy is often preoccupied with fruit. "If Vexen was to meet us here, he would have already. It is unlike him to be anything but punctual in his operations."

"True," The silent hero acknowledged, letting them again lapse into silence.

Zexion glares. "Well I for one have no intention of continuing stay. You may follow me if you wish, but undoubtless you shall run off unheeded in his wake like the idealistic foul spirit you are."

"So long as you understand," Lexaues salutes and teleports away.

Cursing, Zexion follows his lead.

O.b.l.i.v.i.a.t.i.o.n

Larxene finds herself still sitting in that same spot when Lexaues teleports in, looking for Vexen.

A moment of surprised silence briefs them both.

"Why fine lady, you look positively distraught." He declares, eyebrows knitting together. "However can I help?"

"Don't 'lady' me," She spits, battering his offered hand away. "I'm just as good a nobody as you are, _sir_."

Lexaues is lost for words, staring at the girl. "I, well I don't doubt it. Please excuse me, it wasn't my place."

The girl thus decides it isn't her place on the floor, sniffing as she stands. "What do you want?"

Safe ground. "I came in search of a man whose cold disposition matches his element. Vexen. I don't suppose you've seen him?"

"If I had I wouldn't say, but rest assured I haven't." The girl toys with her misshapen hair's antennae. "I do know our leader doesn't care for the way he questioned authority the other day."

"You know of Marluxia, so you must be the orgination's sole female, the graceful assassin?" He never received a name…

"No shit." Lexaeus is only slightly taken aback at the blaspheme, thinking there's not much more of this woman that can shock him. "My friends call me Arlene."

"Well met. I am Lexaeus, The Silent Hero."

"Good for you buddy."

He nods, and tells her he has to be off to find the Ice King.

Larxene kind of wants to wring Marluxia's neck for taking on someone who so obviously died in the sixteenth century.


	6. Level Six

It is with choked surprise that Zexion finds Axel on the grounds of Oblivion, crouching and breathing heavily as if he's been running. When the elder nobody does not acknowledge his presence, Zexion takes initiative.

"Hi," he ventures.

Axel turns and stands. "Zexion," he says, and his voice is strained.

"Are you alright?"

"No," Axel says.

Interesting. "Have you spoke to Vexen or Lexaeus?"

A flash of pain slights his face at that.

"You won't be seeing Vexen anymore," Axel tells him.

Zexion remains dense. "Why not? Has he left the castle?"

"In a manner of speaking." Axel turns away from him as Zexion moves closer. "I had to do it, Zexion. I had to, for Roxas. Please, try to understand."

"You didn't." The look in his eyes says all. "You _didn't_."

"I had to," Axel whispers. "I had to get back in Xenmas's good books. I hadn't been making any progress. He would've killed me, and then I would never…"

"Never what? Never gotten the chance to convert the shell of a person who would rather die then stay with you and a misshapen cause? The only other sane person in this _whole fucking universe_?"

"It's not like that!" Axel screams. "He loves me, I know he does."

"Are you serious? He's practically a robot, if he loved anyone it wouldn't be a murderer who-"

"Don't call me that!"

"Why the hell not? It's what you are!"

"What I am is human, the same as you. You've killed heartless, haven't you?"

"It's not _the same_. Heartless aren't sentient."

"Not even Sora's?"

"This isn't about him." More quietly.

"I'm sorry," Axel says, looking away from Zexion now.

"No you're not. Not at all."

"I don't know… what… What can I say? What else could I do to make it all right?" Zexion feels sick just looking at him. "Did you… Did you know him well?"

"Not really," he admits. "I respected him a fair deal, but our relationship was more professional then anything else." Relationship.

"Oh."

There is a painful moment of silence where neither nobody moves.

"I should get back to the others." Zexion mutters.

Axel's eyes flash. "You would leave me?"

"And you'd truly expect me to stay?" No response. Zexion sighs. "I suppose I should have you follow, lest you go and do something totally unreasonable." _Like kill yourself… Or me_, Zexion thinks. "If it is still your wish to overthrow Oblivion, you need not come."

"No," Axel says shakily, "No, I'll go."

Zexion doesn't give him time to reconsider, grabbing his cloak and teleporting away.

O.b.l.i.v.i.a.t.i.o.n

Lexaeus has been looking for a long time. Through the basements and everything above the seventh floor, where the key blade master is rumoured to have reached.

He can't find Vexen. That much is at least obvious, going back floor after floor. The castle is strangely vacant, for in all the floors he has searched he as only yet found a wary Marluxia and weary Namine.

He does hope Zexion is having more luck in his search. That is, if he is indeed searching the castle at all. He'd been fairly impatient to leave when Lexeaus left, and though the older nobody had presumed the younger would likewise look for Vexen it was more then possible that in his frustration Zexion had teleported to the World That Never Was by himself.

Which meant that it was equally possible that, if something had indeed happened to Vexen, Lexaeus might be part of an Oblivion rebellion alone in the castle, with its king staring him down and two most trusted side by side.

Eep.

That moment, Axel and Zexion teleport into the room.

Axel shoves Zexion off of him, seeing Marluxia. He bows.

"The conspirator has been exterminated, my sire."

"Larxene, you have failed me," Marluxia speaks to himself.

"What was that?" Axel asks, tensing.

"No matter," Marluxia laughs. "I shall kill you myself!" The room ensnares itself in vines, and Marluxia summons his scythe.

Lexaeus very quickly sees that his own fate isn't of much immediate focus.

"Zexion," he rushes to the younger nobody. "Are you alright, what happened? Have you yet seen Vexen?"

"Vexen," Zexion repeats, looking faint. "Lexaeus, I'm so sorry."

n.o.i.t.a.i.v.i.l.b.O

Marluxia isn't a forgiving man.

Larxene knows only too well. She's seen him with the heartless, one scratch at his leg… When angry, he humiliates his enemies in the most merciless way possible; he lets them destroy themselves with their shame. Larxene would compare him with the volatile blue haired Orginization member whose existence slips in and out of her head but for the fact Marluxia retains the ready mind that would leave him otherwise animalistic.

She's his friend. His partner. Larxene has manipulated Lexaues in apology but she herself knows that something so small would be never enough. Does she dare return to him now? He could destroy her.

He loves her, and she knows him. How badly his dreams and emotions guide his ambitions. How he craved this independence, and the genuinity of his want for hearts all nobodies. His fierce loathing of Xenmas, his cynicism, his belief that superficiality runs the world… How he spoke to her before they started on this castle, after she saved his life. His slow, but begrudging trust. It had wavered, but now it would be shattered. He would never trust her again.

What can she do? Marluxia will stop at nothing to achieve his goals. His insecurity and deep-rooted affections for her would feed the feelings of anger and betrayal. He won't listen to her.

With a pang in her chest Larxene somehow remembers the early days, Christmas, sitting under salvaged mistletoe at Neverland and smirking at him. Mistletoe, the poisonous flower. Marluxia.

She closes her eyes. It's like pulling a shutter over a too-bright window.

Larxene leaves for the floor of, what is hopefully, Namine.


End file.
